


Holding Time In The Palm Of Your Hand

by thedailygrind



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-lawsuit, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 09:05:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18028841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedailygrind/pseuds/thedailygrind
Summary: The things that happen and the things that don't, post lawsuit.





	Holding Time In The Palm Of Your Hand

These days Junsu and Changmin find a little more time to hang out and when Changmin’s too busy preparing for Paradise Ranch to, Junsu finds himself at his dad’s pizzeria, talking to fans, and thinking about how normal this all is. This break.

They never realized how easily they’d slip into it, Yunho’s gone for filmings all the time, Junsu only sees him on occasion when he visits the flat at Jaejoong’s insistence to listen to some of the recordings they’ve done. After the official announcements, Junsu and Changmin had moved back home. Once Yoochun had realized the break was more than likely to drag on, he’d enlisted the help of Yoohwan for the move, bringing half of their home recording systems back to his apartment. 

While Jaejoong and Yunho fake-complain about not being able to go home, Junsu secretly thinks they’re enjoying it more than they let on.

When Yunho’s not too busy filming and Jaejoong’s not too busy with promotion work, they take turns taking over the shared flat. Jaejoong’s moved into Changmin and Yunho’s shared room and they use the rest of the empty beds as temporary hanging racks or tables for documents. It looks homelier, more lived in since Jaejoong’s stuff is strewn on the carpet and on Changmin’s bed, and Yunho’s shoes are kicked off, right next to his. 

The break is the longest the five of them have ever had. At first Junsu doesn’t know what to do with himself, can't remember how to live like a normal person. Two weeks later, he finds he still doesn’t. He watches a movie at midnight, haggles for a new jacket at Dongdaemun, stays in his pajamas for three days straight just playing Granado Espada on his laptop, buys Yoochun's mother some pots from Insa-dong, goes to the beach with Changmin, once; Junsu finds himself doing whatever the hell he wants, living each day without reading off a schedule list. 

At first, it’s lonely yes, but oddly freeing. The final court date is around the corner and despite himself, Junsu's not ready to go back to what they had; he's not sure he'll ever be ready for this to end.

 

"Mmph."

"Hi."

"Hey." There's a contented sigh and the sound of shuffling sheets. "What time is it?"

"Eight."

"Shit!" Jaejoong stumbles out of bed, grabbing one of the clothespins that hang from his closet door. Yunho rolls over to watch him change appreciatively, can’t help but find himself smiling when he realizes in between all the cleaning, cooking and making out Jaejoong’s still found a way to color coordinate some outfit for his and Yoochun’s brief dalliance at the airport. 

"I thought your flight was scheduled at twelve."

"It is," Jaejoong groans, smoothing down his t-shirt, "but Yoochun needs me to get started on the chords for a song we're working on. I promised him I would at least finish the intro by today."

He gives himself a quick onceover in the mirror before he crosses the room to sit on the bed, pressing a fond kiss to Yunho's temple. "I'll be in the workroom. Sleep in a bit more."

“How long will you be gone?” Yunho asks, catching Jaejoong's wrist as he makes to stand; there's a short, affable tug-of-war before Jaejoong sits back down on the bed with a playful groan to kiss Yunho properly.

"We have to film Music Fair, so that'll be--oh. Hey! I'm wearing that to the airport--Yunho--"

“That'll be too long,” Yunho finishes, his eyes are soft, and his fingers burn Jaejoong's skin, where they've slid under Jaejoong's thin black tee, bunching up the fabric. And Jaejoong finds that a small part of him does agree, that six days are far too long, enough so that he allows Yunho to tug it over his head and dump it unceremoniously onto the ground.

"It'll wrinkle," Jaejoong complains breathlessly as Yunho cleverly maneuvers him back onto the bed, trapping him against the covers with his very warm, gloriously naked body.

"I'll dry clean it for you." Yunho bargains, and Jaejoong gets distracted running his hands down Yunho's back, watching the golden-tan curves of his muscles shift restlessly under his hands. Then Yunho's hands move lower and Jaejoong's pretty sure he's fighting a losing battle.

"But, I. Oh, I have a plane to catch," Jaejoong gasps, it's not much of a protest because Jaejoong is helping him, lifting his hips so Yunho can tug his jeans out of the way. Jaejoong makes to say something and Yunho just smirks, hand sliding past Jaejoong's boxers to wrap his fingers around his cock. 

"We won't take that long," Yunho says, pressing his forehead to Jaejoong's, and for a moment he looks so mischievous, so young and happy that Jaejoong wraps his arms around Yunho's neck and kisses him. 

 

He's wrong.

After the first time, Yunho curls up against his body, throwing a leg around Jaejoong to stop him from getting out of bed. They bask in the afterglow, sharing slow, languid kisses and Jaejoong is just plotting his escape from bed when Yunho's hand drifts lazily from his arm to his stomach to rest on the curve of his hip. And then. 

Well.

Jaejoong barely makes it to the airport on time, with Yoochun banging anxiously at the main door, in a shirt too big for him and still smelling like sweat and sex and Yunho.

 

 

The airport is overcrowded and noisy, filled with overzealous fans who worry for their future. Yoochun’s given up worrying, there’s nothing they can do now, but wait, and perhaps, he thinks, guiltily, enjoy the vacation.

He wanders through it all in a blur not quite seeing or hearing anything. Jaejoong looks equally tired, Yoochun attributes it to composing or whatever Jaejoong and Yunho were doing this morning. 

They don’t talk, just sit pressed knee-to-knee in the waiting lounge, Yoochun listening to the strains of Neyo on his iPod and Jaejoong tapping the same rhythm against the metal chair leg between them. 

 

 

The curtains are drawn shut (black, it had been Junsu’s idea. Maybe not, but they tend to affectionately blame most things on Junsu,) shuttering out the light. It’s three am when Jaejoong wakes up, blearily pressed against a warm chest, Yunho’s arm a heavy comforting weight around his middle. He must have come in sometime in the middle of the night, the director’s shooting patterns had been getting erratic; Yunho had called and Jaejoong hadn’t waited. Yunho rouses, he’s not a heavy sleeper and Jaejoong nibbles at his collarbone before pulling away, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

“Working today?”

Yunho shakes his head, Jaejoong smoothes his thumbs beneath those dark eyebags and kisses his forehead.

“Go back to sleep,” Jaejoong soothes, the air in the room is still and muggy, fan spinning lazily overhead. He wants to drown in this sleepiness forever. Yunho nods, closing his eyes, his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, Jaejoong tugs the blanket over the both of them. 

He reaches under the bed, sorting through the mess of cloth on the floor by feel alone, finally finds the thick heavy denim of his jeans and tugs out his cellphone.

“Let’s push the meeting,” he texts, clicks send and knows Yoochun won’t answer till around eleven. 

He falls asleep an hour later, listening to the gentle lull of Yunho’s heartbeat.

 

 

Jaejoong and Yoochun still fly in and out of Korea all the time, but less now that the promotion for Colors is mostly done. It's usually small, two or three music shows and then Jaejoong's homefree. Yunho knows that there's nothing to keep them in Japan, not for more than a few days at a time. 

The flat always feels particularly empty on the days Jaejoong's not there but it's not so hard knowing he'll come home to the spicy smell of warm rice and kimchi a couple of days later.

Just before the plane takes off, Jaejoong texts “Leaving now. Call you tonight.” 

And Yunho feels the vibrating of his handphone against his hip and hears, “Take care. Miss you. Don’t forget to finish the jiggae in the fridge.”

 

 

Yunho crawls out of bed at ten am. He’s never been good with lie-ins unless they’re with Jaejoong and Jaejoong has mysteriously vanished in the course of his sleep, leaving Yunho a. cold and b. with no incentive to lie around. 

Yunho wanders into the bathroom, squinting against the bright lights that light up every corridor of the house. 

The toothpaste is uncapped and has spilled over, clumps of white mush hardening against their basin. Yunho caps it back patiently as he brushes, scrubs the muck off with his thumb and resolves to tell Jaejoong to turn off the lights when he’s done with them. 

Jaejoong is at their kitchen counter, reading the newspaper, a warm coffee sitting on the table. He looks up from underneath his black-rimmed spectacles to grin at Yunho and as Yunho crosses the floor to kiss him, he’s pretty sure there’s something he’s supposed to be nagging Jaejoong on about, but he can’t quite remember.

“Have some breakfast.”

The milk is cold and he pours it over the wheaty yoghurt flakes that Jaejoong has been completely bought over by; they have about four or five full sized packets of cornflakes stashed in the cupboard now and it is comforting to know they'll be in Korea long enough to finish them. The minty aftertaste of toothpaste does not go with milk but Yunho bites and swallows anyway.

“What are we doing today?”

Jaejoong shrugs, turning the page of the newspaper. It’s utterly fascinating to see him like this, strangely unguarded, strangely _domestic_. 

“You tell me.”

Jaejoong's smile is brilliant, the bags around his eyes not as pronounced as they have been for months, years. As Jaejoong reaches over the table to absentmindedly wipe the corner of Yunho's mouth with his thumb, Yunho feels a short stabbing pain of want. A few more days of this, he thinks, forever of this, wouldn't be so bad.

 

 

They end up in bed again, the morning is warm and lazy and there’s no reason for either of them to not be resting. Jaejoong is curled up on his side reading a book and Yunho is on his stomach sorting through documents and schedules that have been rejected or made uncertain by the recent turn of events (namely the court case). 

As Jaejoong is dozing, falling asleep to the soft scribbling coming from Yunho’s side of the bed, there’s an odd pause and then a warm palm, resting against Jaejoong’s stomach, not doing anything, just there.

Jaejoong turns, the book falling from his hands and hitting the floor with a low thud. Yunho’s still not looking at him, although he’s smiling at the pile of documents in a way that means work is the farthest thing from his mind. Jaejoong takes a moment to admire his form in the sunlight, muscles taut against the bed, gleaming, rippling with every tiny motion he makes. Yunho is glorious. 

As if Yunho hears him, he shoves the documents aside, they land in a messy fluttering pile by the bed and its likely Jaejoong will have to be the one picking it all up later when Yunho is drying his hair and being almost late to filming. 

He doesn’t care.

Yunho’s still smiling, the proud curve of his jaw inviting yet oddly reverent at the same time, and its times like these Jaejoong remembers why he’s their leader, that beyond all those silly, clumsy habits he can’t quite shake, he’s the one who quite possibly led them all to this. To what they are today.

Wordlessly, Yunho cups his face, traces the curve of his cheek with such impossible gentleness it takes Jaejoong’s breath away. He’s not breakable, they both know that, they’ve both been through worse, but there’s something powerful in being held like that, like you’re the center of someone’s universe. The intensity in Yunho’s gaze makes Jaejoong shiver, involuntarily makes his hands reach and fingers dig into Yunho’s back, to pull him close, to hold him, to have something, anything of Yunho’s fill his palm.

Yunho’s eyelids flutter close and they tickle Jaejoong’s cheek as he leans in, pauses and then kisses him, soft and wet, their tongues tangling in a familiar warm rhythm. Jaejoong sighs in acquiescence, pulling Yunho on top of him so that they’re pressed skin to skin, so Jaejoong can crawl into his body, as familiar, if not more than his own, and stay there.

Yunho’s mouth is urgent, insistent, on his mouth and then lower, on his neck, settling at the dip between his collarbones. Yunho grins up at him cheekily, and slides his hand into Jaejoong’s boxers to cup the length of him. Jaejoong shudder-sighs again and bucks up against him, warm heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. And Yunho is just watching him, his grip firm on Jaejoong, stroking up, down, slowly, not quite teasing but drawing out the pleasure, enough to drive the both of them crazy.

“Yunho,” Jaejoong pants out, arching off the bed and into his touch. Yunho’s fingers still ever so slightly, his thumb rubbing over the head of Jaejoong’s cock, and oh God, Jaejoong wants to force him to move, to stop being such a tease and to just, _oh_. 

Yunho pins him down, easily, his hands firm but gentle on Jaejoong's wrists and its clear to them both that Yunho is obviously taking pleasure in Jaejoong’s slow, painful, maybe-pleasurable death and is intent on prolonging it as long as possible. 

“Yunho,” Jaejoong pleads, his voice breaking on the last syllable. Yunho’s fingers are nimble, touching him, teasing him, taking and withholding. Jaejoong bucks his hips into Yunho’s, but Yunho twists away with a small smirk, and strokes him a little harder, until stars burst in white hot heat behind Jaejoong’s eyes. Yunho pulls away again, his hands gentling, plying Jaejoong with soft comforting kisses, never mind comforting is the last thing Jaejoong wants. 

“We have all the time in the world,” Yunho murmurs against his lips as Jaejoong tugs him down to kiss him, lick desperately at the roof of his mouth that no, no they have all the time in the world _later_ and Jaejoong just wants to touch Yunho and for Yunho to just.

“Later,” Jaejoong says, dizzily, desperate for more touch, more warmth, more _Yunho_. “We can do slow later.”

Yunho just hushes his protests with more kisses and mouth and tongue and then Jaejoong gives up and decides to go with it, because Yunho is obviously not yielding. He curls his free hand in Yunho’s hair, throws his head back and Yunho leans forward to suck a bruise into his neck.

It’s disconcerting, when he realises what Yunho wants, but by then he’s too far gone to care. His fingers curl in Yunho’s shoulder, burning marks into Yunho’s skin and Yunho is just watching him, eyes soft and fascinated. Jaejoong wonders what he looks like now, thinks it’s better if he doesn’t know; cheeks flushed and sweaty, head thrown back, completely, utterly _gone_. Yunho watches him fall apart, thread by thread, every soft groan, every restrained arch off the bed, begging and wanting in not so many words. 

“You’re beautiful,” Yunho says softly, transfixed and Jaejoong’s cheeks are burning, he’s not quite sure whether from the orgasm or the way Yunho is looking at him. So he pulls Yunho close and they kiss until Jaejoong’s head is spinning and his mouth is branded by the heat from Yunho’s. 

They strip the remaining clothes away, Yunho’s shirt, his slacks, socks. Jaejoong makes to turns over, but Yunho holds him down again. Yunho’s eyes are dark and full of promises, Jaejoong feels his cheeks heat again and god all he can think about is Yunho. Yunho trails his mouth down Jaejoong’s neck, his stomach, taking his time to explore, teasing the backs of his knees which Jaejoong doesn’t realise is so damn erotic until he’s semi-hard again, and it doesn’t seem fair, not when Yunho hasn’t even come once.

He wraps his legs around Yunho’s waist, pulling him close. 

“Come on,” he murmurs, sentiment clear as he shifts into Yunho, feeling Yunho’s cock a heavy burning weight against his own thigh. Yunho watches him, his tongue coming out to lick the corner of his lips, the way he does when he’s thinking, Jaejoong decides thought processing is obviously overrated and pulls him down into a kiss, letting his free hand drift between them to guide Yunho inside of him.

Yunho slips inside him without much resistance, Jaejoong’s body still stretched and open from the night before. Their bodies know each other and they settle into a slow-burning rhythm and it feels so good and not enough. Yunho moves, and Jaejoong can’t think, can barely breathe, and while everyone in the world knows Yunho’s talented with his dance and movement and _body_ , Jaejoong’s pretty sure that knowing and _knowing_ is a very different thing. There’s a soft groan and it takes Jaejoong a while to realise its is own, and Yunho looks down at him, thrusts slowing, Jaejoong shakes his head and pulls him down to kiss him. _It’s okay, silly._

Yunho is glorious silhouetted against the sun, his sweat slicked skin gleaming in the warm daylight, his muscles straining out of his skin with every thrust, every breath, every movement. 

It’s the end of September and there are a lot of things there aren’t right in the world; no one knows what’s going to happen, what if they win? What if they don’t? But when Yunho collapses against him, pliant, sleepy and spent, tasting like milk and strawberries, Jaejoong can’t remember why he wants the court case resolved in the first place.


End file.
